Espionage, shaken and stirred

Our vacation was lovely, Dear Friends! Life can be kind -- almost as kind as you and your sweet messages! The sun was bright and the air was warm. The waffles were delicious, vanilla ice-cream on the side. Scottie was crazy, as usual. All she cared for was her tennis ball. She uses it to communicate. Play with tennis ball = Love. Scottie is a black Labrador that belongs to relatives. She bounces her ball like a basketball player, and balances it on the tip of her muzzle like a seal! And she is very patient, just like Frog. She'd lay there waiting outside the bathroom for Mimi to finish showering (and hair styling and the works) and come out and play with her. And her ball.

What else did we do? We watched U2 live in Latin America in 3D – four cities in one afternoon. We put on our magic glasses and were just beamed there, rendered invisible intruders on the stage! We took off the glasses and found ourselves back inside an empty theater. We walked out into the afternoon heat. We had coffee.

The next day we visited a science museum together with [other] kids. Mimi lay on a bed of nails; Roufa powered a TV by pedaling. And then we played in the spy section, where we saw real mikes hidden in fake olives, antennas in toothpicks. We crawled our way through booby-trapped corridors, trying not to intersect the laser beams.

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And then something funny happened. Roufa was studying the Enigma code and Mimi was fiddling with some wires. Roufa had just deciphered an eight-lettered word – Istanbul! -- when Mimi urged him to come and listen, for she had intercepted a telephone conversation! Well, she assumed it was a recorded conversation waiting for kids to discover it. Interestingly enough, it was being conducted in Terrible English – the official language of international dealings. It sounded so real! But, curiously, not very spy-related. What we could hear was a no-nonsense manager, representing a major European electricity supplier, and some counterpart from a small country, discussing the possibility to install a nuclear plant in that country. For peaceful purposes. Big deal!

It turns out though that we've spied for real! This was a real conversation, believe it or not – and what a scoop! You see we did a little further research and discovered that in that little lignite-devouring country nuclear energy is fiercely opposed and nobody seems to be remotely aware of any plans to introduce it! So: was the manager being misled, or are the little country's citizens being fooled to believe that Russian natural gas is the future?

Where are the real journalists when you need them? Recycling each other's garbage.

Dear journalists, here's the deal: The beautiful little country is Greece, home of the beautiful little Greeks. Now, if you want us to name more names, you will have to pay: Full immunity in writing and an all-inclusive three-week holiday in Santorini for two adults and a dog should do! No, wait, make that a house downtown Fira with a volcano view plus a generous budget so that we can decorate it ourselves. We have a very exquisite taste.

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As far as we know, we will not be traveling for a while. Not before August. Finally, we can start looking for a French Bulldog! Preferably black with white spots! Like this cuty here! Oh, we've waited too long.

Angels stole your missing socks

Good day, our dear readers! We hope you had at least half as lovely a weekend as we did. And that you've aired yourselves sufficiently. Always important. We'll keep on telling you until you have to run out for air.

We had a visitor in the weekend, our friend Biko Azinuth. He's quite a character. And Belgian, which is how we got hooked, see previous post. Biko is an aspiring writer, and full of stories. But he wasn't there to impose on us with the characters in his fiction, he's not the obsessive-neurotic type of author. (Not that we would mind. Those guys maintain very popular blogs about how they cannot sit down and write. Traffic guaranteed.) What he talked about was his childhood pets! Dogs, cats, turtles. As a result, it's impossible for us to post anything sharp today.

We started talking about dogs, because we are planning to have one. Biko is a fan of boxers and has had almost half a dozen of them up to now. Sweet, playful, funny creatures – we are enchanted ourselves. One of his boxers would get so melty when he cuddled her, that she fainted. Another one was extremely stubborn, impossible to train, a very strong personality, but still sweet. She wouldn't let him pack for a trip – she would poke into the suitcase and steal his socks all the time. All boxers were fascinated with the birds in the garden. They would watch them attentively as they chirped around the bird house.

Biko has also owned a cat, Prutz. A crazy creature, really crazy. She would attack you out of the blue, while (you thought she was) napping in your lap. When she died, the doctor discovered her brain was full of sugar crystalls. She had been a diabetic nut. Prutz was a merciless hunter too. She would give the family a scare by bringing in a bug or a mouse, proudly laying them dead or half-dead at their feet. She'd take a nap on Kika the boxer, planting her claws in her skin so as not to slip off. Kika did not mind.

He's also had a German Shepherd, Tina, when he was a very small boy. He used to lay on her in the garden and watch the sky. At the same time he owned a turtle, Piet. Piet would listen to his name. You could call him and there he would set off slowly to nibble on his tomato. Later he would take a stroll in the garden, dumping his excess all along, so that next thing you knew, tomato plants would sprout all over the place. They didn't know what to do with all the tomatoes.

Piet was not afraid of coming down the stairs. He would go for it. Jump he'd go, land on his back, and then wait for Tina to arrive and turn him over, back on his feet. Time and again.

In the winter it was hibernation time for Piet. He would lay in the basement, inside a box cushioned with leaves.

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Our brains soothed by these stories, we slept like babies. And that's the best way to sleep. I, Mimi, dreamed of a heaven, where all our thought-to-be-dead pets and animals of all sorts played happily together, sniffed and cuddled, jumped in ponds, examined the cacti over the hill; skipped around poking toys, chasing one another, some waiting for their owners, some already spoiling theirs. Biko's joyful boxers ran after tennis balls and wild birds and chickens, and funny heavenly creatures I could not quite make out, then rested in their nests full of his missing socks and underwear. That's where all your missing socks have gone! The heaven of boxers.

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Our new landlord does not allow big dogs – heaven knows why he should prefer us to have a handbag-sized, neurotic bundle of barking hell -- so instead of a boxer we will settle for a French Bulldog. Aren't they, after all, “a big dog in a small package”? Looking forward to it! We'll let you know!